


The Sign of Your Soulmate

by apkidd



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Grumpy Levi, Homo, Ice Cream, Implied Levi/Eren - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, One-Shot, Pizza, Ship all the ships, Soulmates, Trost, but within trost, cute sasha and connie, i just really like weird aus, ice cream cuties, im so bad at writing dialogue pls forgive me, jean works in a pizza shop, mentions of mikasa and eren, pretty much everyone, set in the uk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:49:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apkidd/pseuds/apkidd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe in which everyone has a special mark to help them identify their soul mate, this is what happens when Jean's mark starts to burn, but the person it guides him to doesn't have a mark at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sign of Your Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> “According to greek mythology, humans were originally created with 4 arms, 4 legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”  
> Plato

Jean pulled the towel from around his waist and began to work it over his wet hair until finally it felt only slightly damp and he dropped his towel to the floor. He went about his daily routine, brushing his teeth, and putting on deodorant until he eventually decided it was time to put on some clothes.

He made his way over to the set of drawers that held his underwear, stopping only briefly to admire the small mark on inside of his left forearm as he held onto the drawer handles.

Sometimes he completely forgot he had this mark, sometimes it pissed him off and other times - on days like today - he admired it.

He knew what it was; it had been there since he was about 11. Almost everyone had one. They call it The Sign of Your Soul Mate.

The Sign of Your Soul Mate is a small mark on your body like a birth mark. They vary from pink to red and their purpose is simple: the mark helps you identify your soul mate. Jean's was about the size of a table spoon, in a pale red shape that almost resembled that of a shield. Although they come in a range of shapes and sizes, everyone's is different. The only person who will have one similar or identical to you will be your soul mate themselves. Sometimes they will be as small as a penny while others will spread across skin like sleeves.

They will usually be on the same place on your body as they are on your soul mates or on opposite sides, like a mirror. About half of the time they will be a shape that changes or it will begin looking like half a shape which will then become whole when you meet your soul mate.

They work by burning when your soul mate is near, not a scorching pain but warm like a hot water bottle against your arm. They will become brighter, almost like a glow. They simmer over time together and after years the sensation just feels, normal, like a part of you.

They don't really begin to appear until you're about 10, and some people don't have them at all.

Some rare individuals will have more than one, but you can have more than one soul mate. Some myth's say it's a scar from a past life in which the two of you were attached. Others say it's where you were branded in heaven, destined to be together. Sometimes they are the person you are destined to love until you float or fall. Sometimes they're a friend, or a sibling, someone that no matter how many times you are reincarnated, in whatever different ways, you will always find each other. They're the special person you share your heaven with.

Sometimes it doesn't always work, but that's the thing about relationships. Sometimes the best thing for two people that love each other, in certain circumstances, is to be apart.

Jean pulled out a pair of socks and briefs. He wasn't the romantic type, hell no. But sometimes he couldn't help but let his mind wander... who will they be? What will they be like? For some it's instant recognition and people even claim to have seen them before in dreams. While for others it's the realisation of everything you never knew you always wanted.

When Jean had comfortably shifted his thoughts to the back of his mind and replaced them with thinking about the day ahead, he dressed, grabbed his car keys and headed out the door for work.

The weather was an uncomfortable hot. It was summer vacation and Jean was working all the hours he could before he started back at college in September. Knowing that he also had to spend his day working in a kitchen was not putting him in a great mood.

He plugged his phone into the stereo, not wanting the hassle of flicking through the stations. It wasn’t long until he was singing along to Bastille, drumming on the wheel, windows down. He pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his sunglasses which were now pretty much sticking to his face with the sweat. Gross.

When Jean pulled up, the small parking lot out back of the shop wasn't too crowded. He went about rolling up all the windows in his small tin canned baby he called a car, and took the keys from the ignition. He sprayed himself once more with some kind of aftershave he had managed to find in the glove box, and made his way out of his car into work.

He was only in shorts, his work t-shirt and sneakers but he wanted to be at the beach or at the park. Barefoot on the sand and not cooped up in this stuffy little place all day and probably until late tonight.

When he came through the front door the place looked empty. He made his way in and let himself through the little door for staff that let him get behind the front counter then walked his way to the back of the shop.

"In the office," he heard a bored voice call.

Jean put his head around the door. "Oh hey, Levi," Jean said. Levi, one of Jeans bosses, barely looked up from what he was doing at his computer. "Prep list," was all he murmured.

"Great," Jean gave a sarcastic smile that he knew Levi couldn't see and walked away to find the prep list.

Jean had worked at Titan Pizza Parlour since he was 16. Now at almost 20 he felt he knew it better than most the staff there, except maybe its owners. Levi and Erwin, Jean's bosses had started the business just five years ago, and it was now one of the most popular pizza take out places in the entire city of Trost. It was a small shop with a small staff but everyone was really friendly. And the fact that it wasn't a big franchise, rather a small independent business, meant that Levi and Erwin would be a piece of cake compared to if he worked somewhere like Pizza Hut or Domino's.

Jean preferred Erwin to Levi, but he learned to somehow tolerate him.

Jean liked it when the shop was like this, hushed and all you could hear was the quiet radio and the sound of the street outside. The place wouldn't start getting busy until late afternoon, and then people on later shifts would come in to join him. He rarely even looked at anyone else's hours on the rota because he got along with everyone - except maybe that stupid Eren kid who had only been here a few months and he was pretty sure he only got the job because he was sleeping with Levi. Whatever. Lucky for him he would've been fired by now if he couldn't do the job. He made his way out back, found a clean apron then preceded to the small sink with the soap to wash his hands.

Making his way through the prep was always easy. Prep was his favourite thing to do because it meant not having to be out front dealing with customers. It was also a little therapeutic, all the chopping and slicing. Peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes – so maybe he didn't enjoy the onions – but it was a simple task which let his mind wonder as he hummed to the radio.

Then he did the simpler stuff that he just had to move from cans to tubs or plastic packaging. All of it dated and stocked up in the chiller. Every now and then Jean would just stand in there, it was like a massive fridge, and pretty comfortable away from the heat.

"Are we doing dough?" Jean asked Levi as he guzzled down a bottle of water, taking a short break.

"It's Friday tomorrow, so yes," Levi nodded, the small dark haired man still tapping away at his keyboard.

"Do you want me to do it?" Jean asked, leaning against the wall.

Levi's small eyes narrowed at his watch then he swivelled on his chair looking at Jean. "Erwin said he'll be in soon. You might as well wait until he's here and he can do it with you,"

"Sure," Jean nodded. He preferred not having to make a batch of dough alone.

With a short moment of freedom Jean checked his phone. No messages of course, then at that moment Jean could hear chatting at the front of the shop. Jean could recognise the two voices straight away as he casually made his way to the front.

"Look I'm sorry I upset you-"

"Honestly Connie if you think it was me, great! Whatever!" Sasha threw her arms up in the air as she spoke. "All I'm saying is you don't have to point it out in front of everyone!"

Both Connie and Sasha made their way through the little side door. "Hey Jean," Sasha sighed as she moved past him towards the back.

"What's up?" Jean asked.

Connie stopped, looking at Jean. "Sasha's mad at me." He shook his head; he was quite a bit shorter than Jean and even Sasha for that matter - and Jean avoided the fact that he was even shorter than Levi at all costs.

"How come?"

"Well she farted in front of everyone at archery and she's pissed because I laughed," he shrugged.

"How do you even know it was me?!" They heard Sasha call from the back. "It could have been ANYONE!!"

"Of course it was you!!" Connie shouted back, Jean flinched, the small guy so close to his ear. "It smelled like POTATOES!!!"

"OH THAT-"

"ENOUGH YELLING IN MY STORE!" Levi was stood outside of his office, his floppy hair hanging either side of his face and beady glaring eyes. "God forbid we should have any customers!" He turned and retreated back inside his office.

Sasha came back out to the front with an apron on and her hair up in her hat.

"I'm sorry!" Connie quickly held his hands up in front of him, his eyes held genuine fear.

Even Jean took a step back from between them, worried he might get caught in the middle of their little tiff. But he knew it wouldn't last, they never did. Connie and Sasha had been best friends their entire lives. Jean had known them since high school and when everyone's marks started appearing it was no surprise that both Connie and Sasha would end up with identical little strawberry looking signs on their ankles.

"Promise you won't do it again," Sasha pouted, her hands on her hips.

"I promise," Connie looked up at her from under his lashes, clearly trying his puppy dog move.

At that point Sasha let out a small squeal and made her way past Jean and the oven and wrapped her arms around Connie's neck. They laughed as she lent down to give him a kiss on the nose, causing him to blush.

Jean gave a small laugh, leaving them to it as he went out into the back to start on the washing up. It wasn't a huge amount but they needed all the space they could get in this little area if they were going to make dough. And now that Connie and Sasha were in it meant they would probably start getting orders soon.

"So Jean, how are things?" Jean hadn't noticed Connie come up behind him. He moved towards the shelf that held clean aprons.

"Same old I guess," He gave a half smile, cleaning the chopping board he had in the sink. "You seem to be having an exciting summer," he laughed, leaning against the wall and putting his hat on.

"Connie I saw you yesterday, so yes," Jean laughed. "I am having a hella summer, thanks for asking." They both cringed.

"Connie, Jean," Jean turned to greet Erwin who had just arrived with a small wet wave, before he retreated into the office where Levi was.

Sasha too arrived out back. "We have an order," she spoke cheerily, touching Connie on the arm.

"That's my cue!" He announced and sauntered off to the front to help Sasha make pizza.

Jean quickly cleared up out back, sanitising the clean surface before hauling the dough mixer out into the small space they had. And Erwin emerged from the office to get flour. Jean waited while Erwin did all the measuring and then put it all together to mix. It didn't take too long and Jean was already balling up dough by the time Reiner and Bert arrived.

Reiner and Bert where two of the delivery guys, who at first Jean thought were super intimidating but they turned out to be just as hilarious as everyone else that worked around here. Jean could never tell if they were dating each other or if one of them was dating some girl they talked about sometimes. They weren't as loud as Connie and Sasha, but then again no one here really was, except for maybe Hanje.

It wasn't long before they were in and out again, deliveries in hand. When all the dough was done Jean moved out to the front of the shop to help Sasha and Connie. He noticed the sun lowering in the sky, but he knew it would be a while before it had set completely this time of year.

Sasha was slapping out pizza at her super speed and Connie was in his topping zone so Jean put himself on oven duty. He knew this was the hottest place in the entire little shop but at least this way he could let Sasha and Connie continue with the orders while he boxed up pizza, answered phones and served customers that actually came into the store. And luckily Erwin was at hand to help out if they got really busy.

Jean knew that Levi wouldn't make much of an appearance. He didn't really enjoy any of the whole dealing with people business but he was always useful when it came to cleaning.

"Could someone please get me some onion and pineapple?" Connie called from the make line. Jean went to move but-

"I'm on it," Erwin smiled, going into the chiller and then appearing again with the tubs in hand.

"What have I got?" Bert asked as he walked over to the surface opposite Jean. Jean finished cutting up pizza and looked at the receipts.

"Um, 22 and 24, I think is going as a double," Jean put the finished orders under the heat lamps along with their receipts.

"Thanks," Bert smiled and began packing the two orders into the bags that kept them warm. "Boy it's hot in here," he breathed a laughed.

"You're telling me!" Jean laughed.

They continued in that kind of rhythm for a while: Sasha and Connie on pizza, and Jean and Erwin alternating between serving and customers and the phones.

Jean looked up as he heard two customers coming through the front door. He could see Erwin on the phone so he put down the peel; luckily this pizza wasn't coming out of the oven just yet, and made his way to the front counter.

"Can I help?" He asked, quickly logging into the computer. For a moment he thought he felt something on his arm, but he ignored it. He had burned himself plenty of times on the oven and it was often that sometimes a burn had been so little that he hadn't felt it until a few moments later.

As he looked up, he caught sight of one of the most precious faces he'd ever seen. Although she was short, Jean could easily see he wide sky eyes, and petite lips over the counter. He was almost mesmerised by her bright blonde hair.

"We ordered for collection," her small, sweet voice spoke, smiling at him.

Jean swallowed and tapped away at the keys. "Two large?"

"That's it!" She nodded, and Jean couldn't help but beam back at her.

As Jean took her cash from the counter and counted up her change, he finally noticed it. His arm… or more specifically: _his mark_. It was glowing and as Jean tried to focus the more he could feel the heat radiate from it like a hot spoon on his flesh.

Shit. He began to panic. What should I do? He fumbled with the coins. It was so hot in here. He bit his lip with nerves. My job, he thought. I need to do my job.

"W-Would you like any dips with that?" he stuttered. She was so cute. Here of all places? Why did it have to be here? And how was she not freaking out?

"Um- do you want some?" It was at this point Jean noticed the guy stood next to her. He was so tall in comparison but Jean would be lying if he said that the first thing he noticed about him wasn't the fact that of his two sleeves one was empty. He only had one arm. Jean looked up at his pale face. He was odd looking, but not in a bad way.

He shook his head at the small girl. "I think we're good," she smiled all teeth, and Jean found it hard to move his feet as he stepped over to the hot lamp to get their pizza that was waiting for them.

"Here," he passed it over to the small girl, his arms both shaking while his mark still demanded his attention.

"Thanks!" she called as she began to walk away, her friend following her. All Jean could do was stand there as they left the shop, dumbfounded. How could she just walk away if she was the one?

"Jean, are you okay?" Erwin asked, stopping his thoughts.

Jean didn't know what to say. "M-my mark," The words slipped over his lips as he raised his arm to show Erwin.

Erwin's already prominent eyebrows rose on his head and he let out a small gasp.

"What do I do?" Jean mumbled.

"Go after her!!" Erwin ordered.

"Huh?" Jean looked up, out of his daze.

"Quick! Go, go! She can't have gone already!" He began shoving Jeans arms.

Jean was apprehensive but he couldn't stay. What if it was her and he never saw her again? And even so, why would she just walk away? He could feel the heat of his mark cooling and he had to act. He pulled off his hat and apron, shoving them on the counter as he ran through the door, Sasha calling his name on his way out.

He ran in the direction he was pretty sure he had seen her go, towards the parking lot out back by the looks of it. Besides a lot of people parked up there to come in and collect their pizzas. He quickly ran around the corner and there she was: walking away, pizza in hand.

"Hey!" he called "Wait!" Luckily for Jean they heard and the pair turned. They stood stunned as a flailing Jean came towards them.

"Wait!"

"Can we... help you?" The girl asked, a pretty freaked out look on her face.

"Please... Wait..." Jean panted. "You... It's you," he pointed at the pretty girl with the big eyes and the cute lips and the petite body. She backed away a little, the tall guy ready to step in front of Jean if need be.

"I'm sorry," Jean calmed down and held his palms out in front of him. "But don't you feel that?"

She gave him a confused look and he stepped towards her. "Don't you feel that? Look, it has to be you," He gestured to his arm and took another step as she took one backwards.

"Okay buddy back off," At that moment Jean felt a hard palm against his chest as a tall, almost ebony haired girl appeared. She gave Jean a glare that had him backing up in moments. "Are you giving my girlfriend trouble?" She asked.

"Wha- No, it's just I thought," At this moment the small girl was clutching the pizza while the taller guy was moving in front of her. Jean was embarrassed.

"You thought what?" The girl moved her hand from his chest to stand back from him.

"Ymir, calm down," He heard a small voice say.

"My mark, its..." Jean held up his arm. "It's burning like crazy, I just thought..." he pulled his arm toward him so he could hold his other hand over the mark to distract from the odd feeling it was causing him. He sounded like a babbling idiot.

"I'm really sorry," The small girl stepped forward. You could barely see her for her friends and the pizza boxes. Jean looked down at her wide eyes, she immediately understood.

"I can't be your soul mate because I already have mine." She shrugged, and the tall girl took the pizza boxes from her and easily held them in one arm as she put the other around the small girl, running her hand over her hair. "Sorry,"

"I just..." Jean mumbled. "I don't understand."

The small girl stepped forward then, interested.

"Does it feel like a brand?" she asked. "But kinda like on the inside?"

Jean nodded.

"Do you feel like, you can feel their presence? And kinda like the air is getting thicker?"

"Yes," That was exactly it, was she not feeling it too?

"I've felt it before… when I met my Ymir." She gestured to the girl behind her. "I can understand why you might think it was me; they'd have to be really close… right in front of you, kind of close." At that moment she turned to the tall boy behind her. Jean figured it out too; he was the only other one there.

"Marco..." The small girl stepped towards him, as he looked at his feet.

He pulled his hand from his pocket. "You already know that I don't have one," he announced, a sad look on his face.

She shook her head. "Do you mind?" she gestured her hands at where Jean was holding his mark. She looked at it, glowing red like a rich sunset.

"Mine and Ymir's are in the same place, just on the opposite side of our bodies. So that when we face each other, our marks do." Jean could somehow see wheels turning in her head.

"What are you getting at?" The girl Jean guessed was called Ymir asked.

The small girl turned back toward her male friend. "Marco you may not have a sign, but you also don't have a right arm."

All four of them just stood for a moment in silence.

"What are you trying to say?" The dark haired boy asked.

"That maybe it's you. You're setting his mark off," The small girl explained. "Maybe he's your soul mate, you just can't feel it because you lost the arm where your mark would have been," At this point she was holding out Jean's arm to show him in hope that it might prove her point.

"I-I-" the boy stuttered, clearly trying to find some words but couldn't.

"You know Krista might be right," Ymir added. "You weren't born without an arm, you lost it,"

At this point Jean could tell the boy was getting really nervous but all he could do was stare at him. Was this girl right? Could this Marco guy really be his soul mate?

Jean took in his tall posture and wide shoulders, his soft jaw line and narrowed eyebrows. His eyes met Jeans and held them for a moment as Jean observed his freckled skin and what appeared to be a scar across his cheek. Then Jeans eyes fell to the empty air in which his arm should have been.

Krista was right. He could feel it. His heart felt like a dancer in his chest, and he could've sworn everything was spinning except...

"Marco..." Jean let the small name, quietly fall from his mouth. It felt good on his lips as he said it.

But then Marco was shaking his head, sadness on his face as he backed away.

"I... I don't feel it?" He looked at his friends in worry, as though they might provide answer. Jean looked at them too.

"I'm sorry. Look, can we just go?" He raised his one arm towards the collection of cars.

"Marco..." Krista began.

"No... Please?" He continued shaking his head. "Let's just go..." he turned to Jean but he wouldn't look at him. He just stared at his shoes. "I... I have to go..."

He turned on his heels and made for the vehicles.

"Marco wait!" The smaller girl began to run after him, and the dark haired one just shrugged and turned to follow her.

Jean wanted to run after him. His sign was telling him to but he couldn't. He just stood as though his feet were welded to the cement as he watched the three of them get in their car and drive away.

It took about 5 minutes for Jean to come back to reality and even then it was with the help of Reiner putting a hand on his shoulder and asking him if he was okay and what he was doing out here and not in store. Reiner had just returned from a delivery and seen him stood there staring into space.

Jean didn't really say much, he couldn't really form words, all he could do was picture the image of Marco's face imprinted in his mind. The pulse of his mark dropping.

Was he gone? Jean thought. Please don't be gone.

When he came back through the store he was fired questions, none to which he really had a response. Eventually everyone just left him alone and he tried to distract himself with the humid air. He left an hour or so before closing seeing as it wasn't his turn to clean and shut up shop, and when he got home in a daze he avoided his mum and went straight to his bed that was patiently waiting for him. He knew he smelled like sweat and food but he just pulled everything off and climbed into bed. It was really still too warm for a duvet but he just wanted the comfort of something around him.

Sleep didn't come. He lay awake thinking of Marco. How was it possible to think so much about a person you don't even know? That he might never see again?

Jean shook the thought from his mind. He would have to see him again, at one point or another. If they were fated then the universe would do its thing, he hoped.

It was all Jean had to hope for. After all he wasn't one of these people that had money and could swan off looking for their soul mate. So maybe he lost his mark? Some people go through their lives having never found their soul mate because they die or something. Of course the whole idea is that no matter what, you'll always find them. But life is unpredictable. Nothing is ever for certain or set in stone, even this. Maybe Jean should talk to somebody. He thought about texting Armin for a moment. Armin was one of his closest friends but he didn't want to burden him. Besides he would probably see him in work tomorrow and he could talk to him then.

Instead he sat alone with his thoughts. If Marco didn't have a mark then of course he wouldn't feel the same. He wouldn't feel the surge or the pulse.

Science can't really explain it and doctors have done countless studies. They know that once a person comes into close enough proximity with their said 'soul mate' the sensation of the mark will often set off a chemical reaction in the brain. Some people call it love at first sight. For some it works slowly, while others are like 2 inseparable magnets, and after a first kiss it will also set off a second round of hormones. These chemicals are like the ones released in sex and breast feeding, they work similarly by establishing a connection; however they are still a little different. What they really don't get is how just by seeing them or getting on same bus or passing them in the street can cause your mark to hum. And that's just for pairs who are attracted to each other. Sometimes your soul mate can be family. But that bond will always work differently anyway. Even if they aren't your soul mate, most people have profound bonds with their family members that are too profound to be explained.

The current idea among the fields is radiation. Honestly they're not sure. But people don't question it the same way they don't question why we don't understand how we generate pictures and voices in our heads, why we dream and how our memories work.

Jean couldn't help but blush. When he thought about meeting his soul mate he had no idea that it might have been a guy. Jean always kind of figured he wasn't that interested in girls and there wasn't really a social norm. Besides the relationship you have with your soul mate is completely different to any other relationship you might have. You can be sexually attracted to someone and not love them. You can love someone and not be in love with them. Jean groaned, human beings are complicated. And all Jean could hope was that Marco didn't have someone else.

*

When he woke he was sticky as usual. It was late morning, the sun rising high in the sky it found every gap and weak spot in his curtains. The same old: Eat. Shower. Ignore your mark. Get dressed. Don't think about him. Get in your car. The boy with one arm. Turn up the stereo.

The only thing putting Jean in a good mood was the fact that his shift was only a few hours this afternoon and he could leave before the Friday night rush started. When he got in both Levi and Erwin were in the office. This time it was Erwin at the PC and Levi looked to be going through a bunch of paper work, folders and receipts.

"Hi guys," Jean spoke quietly.

"Hello," Levi spoke quietly unlike Erwin.

"Jean! How are you?" He turned from the screen to look at him.

"I'm... fine?" He guessed. He was technically fine.

"Well I'm glad you're bearing up. All hands on deck!"

"Right..." Jean wasn't really sure what on earth he was talking about but Erwin had his own way and he was a good boss so Jean never complained.

"There isn't much to do except replace everything we used yesterday because it's bound to get quite busy tonight." Jean nodded, Friday was their busiest night of the week.

It didn't take him long to start on the little bit of prep they needed doing, and he did some cleaning and tidying when he was done and got bored.

"Hey Jean," He looked up from the floor he was sweeping to see Armin. Jean couldn't help but smile with relief.

"Hey!" Jean replied as Armin came through the counter door.

"How you been?" This wasn't small talk; he knew Armin genuinely wanted to know. Jean just gave a groan. "Give me a minute,"

Armin cocked his head at him, his small blonde eyebrows rising. "Okay...?" The short guy swanned off out back.

When Jean joined him out back by the sinks he was tying up his apron.

"Erwin says you had some excitement yesterday?"

Jean leant up against the surface. "It was my mark," Jean folded his arms.

"What?" Armin's eyes widened. "No way," He began to pull what he could of his blonde hair up into a pony tail and began fixing his hat.

Jean explained. "Some girl came into the store. She was so pretty and my mark started burning so I thought it was her. I ran after her, but it wasn't her. She already had someone," Jean sounded defeated. Armin's expression was still confused.

"Well then, why was your mark burning?"

It took Jean about 10 minutes to give Armin a play by play of what happened.

"So you think it was him? He was your soul mate?" Armin asked, leaning up against the sink.

"I don't see how it could have been anyone else?" Jean shrugged.

"That's so odd," Armin scratched under his hat. "But I guess that could happen... One arm huh?"

"Yeah," Jean nodded. "But it wasn't weird or anything..."

"Really?"

"Honestly I hardly noticed," Jean shrugged.

"Well if he was the one, you probably wouldn't," Jean gave a small laugh. "What are you going to do?" Armin crossed his arms while Jean fiddled with his hands.

"I have no idea," he remarked.

The afternoon passed quickly as Armin and Jean discussed plans for the summer and milled about the store. When Hanje arrived she put everyone in a good mood. She was always so excitable and Jean could never understand how she had so much energy. Her pony tail bobbing as she talked away. She was also one of the only people who refused to treat Levi different from anyone else and secretly Jean thought he didn't mind. They kind of had a way with each other. Although Hanje could get overwhelming at times there was no doubt that her wit and smart were highly appreciated.

Of course she too had a bunch of questions for Jean and no one could really offer him sufficient answers seeing as the only people he knew who had actually met their soul mates were Connie and Sasha, Eren and his sister Mikasa, and the two girls he had briefly encountered yesterday - those and his parents. Besides Jean was only 19. He had his whole life ahead of him, why so soon? Pretty much everyone else who worked in store was around the same age as Jean, give or take a few years besides Erwin, Levi and Hanje.

Hanje had worked there as long as he could remember. She was still in university when they met. Jean was never really sure what she did now besides running around the store and making pizza.

Jean only had an hour of his shift left and they were beginning to get a few odd orders. Eren was also in doing deliveries along with Bert and Reiner which made it kind of awkward when Sasha and Petra came in because everyone was sure Petra had a thing for Levi. Jean also couldn't understand why someone as smart as Armin would like Eren so much and honestly the whole thing with Eren and Levi just kind of creeped him out.

The store was getting crowded and the orders where piling and had it not been for Jeans arm, he never would have noticed when the tall, dark haired guy walked in. He could feel his mark begin to thud under his skin and he immediately looked up to the counter where Armin was serving. He put down everything he was doing and walked right over.

"Is that him?" He heard Sasha whisper "Tall, dark and handsome!"

"I'll take this," He said to Armin as he stood in front of him on the opposite side of the counter. Armin went to question but Jean never took his eyes from the boy in front of him.

"Hi," he breathed.

"Hi," Jean trembled.

"I don't know why I'm here, I just..." He blushed. Jean wasn't sure what to say, all he could do was focus on the energy pumping through him. "Would it be really cheesy if I asked you what time you got off?"

Jean liked the way his blush spread to his ears, he was... cute. Jean looked at the clock on the wall. "My shift ends in about 10 minutes," Jean felt in stomach do little flips.

"I'll just be round the corner,"

And with that he nodded and walked out of the shop. Jean ignored the warm feeling that had spread from just his arm. All he could think about was how he looked like such a mess in his work clothes and smelt like food and probably sweat and he had hat hair and eugh! He grossed himself out.

He went out back to quickly place everything he'd washed in the sinks onto the drainer to dry. Guzzled half a bottle of water, pulled off his dirty apron, put his hat on the shelf and then took a deep breath before clocking out and saying goodbye to everyone.

He quickly checked his phone before shoving it in his pocket along with his car keys. He could feel the weight of them in his pockets. He actually felt glad he had worn his favourite shorts and sneakers today. And he reassured himself that he had both spray and a spare t-shirt that he kept in his car ever since he went to the beach last week.

Jean quickly noticed him leaning up against the wall on his phone. He was wearing sunglasses now and Jean realised how bright it was out here. But when he saw Jean coming he stood up straight, took off his glasses and put his phone in his pocket. He was in light clothing too. Plain shorts and grey v-neck tee, but he didn't look plain. Not to Jean.

Jean stopped himself in front of him, unsure of what to say. He must have been half a head taller than Jean.

"Is it happening again?" The dark haired boy asked. "Your mark," He gestured to Jeans arm.

"Oh... yeah," Jean nodded.

The taller boy bit his lip. "I guess it must be me then," He concluded.

"You say that like you're disappointed," Jean frowned, running a hand through the shorter hair around the bottom of the back of his head.

"No, no!" He shook his head in reply. "It's not like that it's just-"

"You don't have the mark. So you don't know what it feels like. You can't understand, how I'm drawn to you," Jean took a step forward.

The taller boy looked weary. "You just... feel like a stranger to me," He began to awkwardly look away, around the street at their surroundings. Jean noticed the deep scar on his cheek again, at the side of his upper lip, all the way to his eye, same side as his missing arm. At a first glance you can't see it for all the freckles but there was definitely something there.

Jean stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm Jean," The boy just looked at his hand. "I mean technically it's like _Jean_ , like John but only my mother uses the French pronunciation,"

Apprehensively the other boy stepped forward with his free arm, and shook Jean's hand.

" _Jean_ ," Jean wasn't sure what to make of the fact that he had said his name like that.

"Marco," For fear of clammy hands Jean let go.

"Now we're not strangers," He smiled.

Jean was beginning to feel more at ease. It was easy to ignore his mark when he was captivated by Marco.

"Do you... wanna do something?"

"Sure," Jean was trying to be as friendly as possible and remember that unlike him Marco didn't feel compelled to follow him until he knew everything about him. "Do you wanna go get some ice cream?" Jean almost laughed at himself for making such an offer but it was the least threatening thing he could think of. And it was hot.

"Ok," The boy nodded with a small smile that made Jean less and less nervous. "Where do you want to go?"

"I know just the place," Jean pulled his keys from his pocket and began to go towards his car, although Marco wasn't so quick to follow him. "I'll buy?" Jean suggested.

Marco did follow him to his car and he unlocked the door and quickly grabbed everything he needed from his glove box. "Get in," Jean insisted. "I'm just going to change my shirt." He blushed, but Marco got in anyway.

When he had opened the trunk he pulled off his shirt, quickly sprayed himself with what he found in his glove box and put on the light blue polo. He then put his wallet and phone in his pockets and put on his sunglasses. He shut the boot and made a quick attempt at adjusting his hair before sliding into the driver's seat. Marco watched him as he belted up, pulled down the visor and started the car. He flicked on the radio but turned it down. Just so it was background noise, and began to back out of his space.

"So... are you French?" Marco asked. That was always one of the first questions people asked Jean.

"Half," he replied.

"On your mother's side?" They both looked straight on, out onto the hot tar ahead of them.

"Yeah,"

"Can you speak French?" He knew this was coming but he didn't want to lie.

"Yeah,"

"That's awesome," And he left it at that. No asking to say something, or wow how do you say blah, blah, blah? Jean beamed. He liked him already. "Where are we going?"

"It's a small coffee place that does ice-cream too, and it's right by the park,"

"Rose Park?"

"That's the one," Jean glanced over at him slightly but was trying to focus on the road. Rose Park was the biggest park in the city of Trost.

"I haven't been there since I was a kid," Marco responded thoughtfully. In a small peak beside him Jean could see the hint of a half-smile on Marco's mouth.

"What about you?" Jean asked. "Marco... That sounds kind of Spanish or something?"

"I really don't know where my parents got it from," he laughed "We're all from Trost,"

They weren't far now and Jean pulled down some of the smaller side streets. Every now at then he would look over to watch Marco watching the outside world. The wind in his hair, even with sunglasses on Jean could tell he looked pretty content, if not totally relaxed.

When they pulled up Jean noticed how Marco had to reach across himself to undo the seat belt. Jean wondered if he should have offered help but he didn't want to seem like he pitied him, he probably hated that. They stepped back out into the wicked sun and made their way side by side to the small coffee shop.

It wasn't too busy as they stepped inside. Jean pulled his glasses from his face and hung them on his shirt collar. Marco did exactly the same except one handedly.

"What flavour?" Jean asked as they stood by the ice cream counter.

Marco pondered the thought. "Mint please,"

"One mint and one vanilla please," He gestured to the girl behind the counter. "And a bottle of water please?" When she had scooped the ice cream into the cones and placed then in a small rack Jean handed over a note before putting his wallet back in his pocket and passed a cone to Marco. He dropped the change in the tip jar and grabbed the bottle of water in one hand and cone in the other.

This place did the best vanilla ice cream he knew. It was the fancy kind that had little bits of the vanilla pods still in it. For some reason he just always liked the cute dark flecks across the cool pale ice cream.

He couldn't help but stare as he noticed the way Marco's tongue came from his mouth to start at the hefty scoop and he blushed when he noticed Jean looking at him.

They walked out of the shop and towards the park.

"So Marco, what do you do?" Jean worked at his own cone.

"Well I just finished Sixth Form,"

"Oh, and what are you going to do now?"

"Hopefully attend Trost University in September if all goes well with my results,"

"No way," Jean was stunned. "That's where I go!" He laughed. "I just finished my first year. What do you want to study?"

"Architecture," Marco replied before licking his lips. They were in the park now and Jean led them towards an empty picnic bench in shade of the trees. It was late afternoon which meant the sun was a tiny little bit less hot but still as bright.

"So, can you draw?" Jean was so interested.

"I'm okay," Marco seemed modest but he didn't need to be because Jean could already see something in him. He knew it was probably just the effects of his mark but Jean wanted to float on every word Marco said, to know him inside and out. Jean found him enchanting.

"I'm good when it comes to technical drawing but when it comes to anything else I'm not that great,"

"And what do you want to do after university?"

"I have no idea." He gave a small, blushing smile. "I'll probably end up in some kind of construction but I'd just really like to build my parents a house,"

As they sat opposite each other at the picnic table in the shade, Marco tried to look away but Jean was intent on holding his gaze. He seemed wonderful. Marco looked down at his ice cream. "And of course, I'd like to build my own house,"

At that moment Marco's eyes flicked up at Jean, his smile dropping a little. And Jean knew what he was thinking. The same thought that had just crossed both of their minds. His house… _our house?_

Again Marco looked back at his cone and began to bite at it, most of the ice cream gone. Jean swallowed; he had to calm himself down. He could feel himself getting excited again and he wasn't sure where it came from.

It couldn't have just been the delicious way in which Marco's tongue lapped up the sweet melting ice cream, and the way he would lick his lips, getting his tongue right into the corner of his mouth every time he got the delicious treat there.

“So...” Marco cleared his throat. Jean cooled himself by finishing off his own cone instead, and tried to ignore the one or two melting drops that had gotten onto his fingers. “You're at Trost too? What do you study?”

“I study classics and modern languages,”

Jean had to stop himself from laughing at Marco's wide eyes and mouth hanging open a little. “Wow...” Jean could tell he didn't know how to respond. “What on earth is that?” Marco smiled, and Jean laughed.

“It's a combination of like classical civilisation, mainly Greeks and Roman along with the study of classical language and modern language. But it's not just learning the languages, but studying them in terms of literature.”

“What made you want to study that?” Jean could feel Marco's eyes narrowing on him, now he was the intrigued one. Not in a confused way, but more of a curious one.

“I loved ancient history at A Level and I can also speak Latin-”

“Latin too?!” Marco interrupted.

“Yeah...” Jean gave a breathy laugh.

“Sorry, go on,”

“Well after doing my A levels the course just gave me the chance to combine the two things I love most: History and language. History really just makes me appreciate having a working toilet but language... It's something about the way a series of grunts and utterances and noises separate us from animals. Humans can't live forever, but words on a page can.”

Marco was finished with his ice cream now. Licking his fingers and lips as he hung on Jean's every word.

“And what would you like to do after you finish?”

“My dream would be to travel,” Jean knew it sounded stupid. He'd be young and broke. “But who knows? I think translating would be fun, maybe even teaching in Europe,”

Marco was giving Jean this content dreamy smile now and Jean decided to stop talking and eat the rest of his cone.

The pair sat for a few hours at that park bench just talking: all about their times at school, their families and friends. Their conversations ranged from light flirty remarks and funny stories about the past to deep confessions about their hopes and dreams.

They found they had a whole bunch of common interests and as soon as they got onto the subject of TV shows, and books and music the same things kept popping up. They talked about foods they hated and why society was messed up and somehow everything managed to come tumbling out of them. It was as though the barriers you put up between yourself and the rest of the world had broken down. The filter that you use on your words and actions, protecting the secrets you don't even want to admit to yourself and your scary bad habits that you suppress in fear of judgement or disapproval. That filter was gone in their bubble.

Jean found himself more and more attracted to Marco in every possible way. He loved the way his face lit up or his eyes widened when he and Jean would stumble upon something they both loved, or the way in which he wouldn't be able to find the right words but Jean could explain how he was feeling for him, or finish his sentences. And Jean liked watching Marcos face. He enjoyed the way in which every freckle would move as he laughed or crinkled his nose or frowned. He enjoyed the way he would brush his dark bangs from his eyes or move his long fingers. He had such a sense of humour that there were moments where Jean was close to tears and he had to hold his ribs because they ached.

They didn't check the time, or look at their phones. Once they both opened up they unravelled.

Jean ran his finger over his mark, tracing the outline of the shape. It must have been early evening by now and the sun was lowering in the sky.

“I wish I knew what it felt like.”

Jean eyes met Marco's, full of want. “Can I see it?”

“Sure,” Jean was going to lay his arm out on the table but instead he got up. He walked around the bench and perched on Marco's left side. He put his legs either side of the bench, so his body was facing Marco rather than the table. Marco didn't protest, he merely followed him with his eyes until Jean laid his left arm out in front of him on the table. The pair were close and Jean's knee brushed Marco's thigh.

Marco looked down at the mark, a simmering red and Jean watched his face. Marco raised his hand and began to touch it, ever so gently. Running his finger over it, and then over the outline like Jean had. He admired it.

“Can I ask about your arm?” Jeans voice was gentle and Marco hadn't realised how close they were now, the way in which Jean had leant toward him so that he could see his mark.

“Of course,”

“How old were you when you lost it?”

“Seven,” Marco focused on tracing Jeans lower arm with his fingers.

“How did it happen?”

“Car accident. We were on holiday in Germany. Me and my mum were in this cheap rental car on the way back to our hotel and a drunk driver hit our car.” Marco's face didn't look sad, just neutral. “It was a simple broadside collision on our right and honestly I can't remember most of it. It was my side of the car so it messed up my arm pretty bad. It broke or shattered most of my ribs and I just remember intense pain on my right side, and glass in my face and the car spinning. I must have hit my head because when I woke up I was in hospital. My mum had cuts and whiplash. I'll never forget that German doctor telling me how lucky I was,” Jean could see a small half smile on his face. “People in collisions like that will often die instantly from a head injury or broken neck or spine. The doctor was so chuffed at the way I had come out of it. As though in order to get out of losing my life I just had to lose my arm. What I always think is funny is how when I woke up and asked what had happened he told me I had been in an accident and then he asked how I was feeling and I said can I please have some pain killers for my arm? And he said which arm, left or right? And when I said right no one could say anything. And that’s when I started screaming because I tried to move my arm and it wasn't there.”

“That must have been intense,” Jean tried not to sound as though he felt sorry for him,

“For years I was dismal about it: dreary and cold. I was so young and angry. I even refused synthetics like the martyr I was and took my resentment out on anyone who called it an 'accident'. Accident implies there was no one to blame. But then I grew up and got past it. I decided I wouldn't let it win and I tuned all my grief into passion. Once I got good at drawing with my left hand it wasn't like I had one hand tied behind my back any more, it was just like I had one hand. I realised how selfish and ungrateful I was and decided to be more thankful for my life.”

Jean's eyes moved across Marco's chest to the empty sleeve.

“Does it creep you out?” Marco's eyes met Jeans.

“No,” And it was genuine. Marco was still... Marco. Still beautiful and honest and wide eyed. This loss of a limb would sculpt who he was but it wouldn't define him. In a way, Jean couldn't imagine him any other way. “I'm guessing the crash did this too,”

Jean lifted his arm from the table to gently press his hand to Marco's cheek. His palm against the freckles, he tenderly rested his index finger just below Marco's earlobe. Jean let his thumb trace the scar that ran from his eye to his lip. He was glad that Marco didn't shy away or seem too surprised. However Jean wondered if Marco's heart rate was as thudding like his was.

“Yes,” It was barely a whisper from his lips, but there was little under an arm’s length between them. “It fades in the summer as the sun makes all my freckles come out,” He blushed, a small spreading on his lips. “At least they're good for something,”

“I love them,” Jean declared before he could stop himself. Marco's ears were bright red. His eyes looked away to try and hide his pleased embarrassment but the smile on his face that grew wider gave him away. “My mum calls them sun kisses,” he laughed. And for a moment Jean thought he might be envious of the sun. Well the sun might try and lay claim to his cheeks but Jean would have the rest.

Jean's thumb that had been running over Marco's cheek moved to touch his top lip.

Any questions Jean had regarding how this boy could be his soul mate were lost. There was no question. The way Marco's lashes rose to reveal his deep searching eyes as he bit his lip was all there was. Every freckle and lash and gentle touch and selfless opinion. The way he held himself or shrugged or walked with his hand in his pocket. In ways they were total opposites and in ways they mirrored each other perfectly. Marco made Jean feel brave.

"Can I..." Jean began.

“Kiss me,” Marco finished. Jeans eyes widened, he felt the warm summer breeze on his face. “And not because I want to feel it. But because I want to kiss you Jean Kirschtein.”

Suddenly the pull felt greater than ever and Jean found himself holding Marco's face in both hands just to steady himself. The height difference really wasn't that apparent sitting down and Jean focused on this moment. As he moved forward, Marco closed his eyes, and as soon as Jean's lips safely brushed Marco's he closed his too. As their noses touched he parted his lips slightly as he sank into a burning kiss. Marco pressed back, their lips moving to fit with one another’s, delicate and gentle. And then it was as though a spark had lit inside of them. Jean could feel every atom in himself as though it was surging, for and towards Marco. Their kiss grew more heated and Jean ran his hands through Marco's hair as Marco's hand worked its way around his waist. Marco's lips smiled against the kiss.

Too soon, Jean pulled away. He felt light headed and dumbstruck. His mark hummed a little but it felt different now, kind of tingly. He rested his forehead against Marco's who was donning a dazed smile, before Marco leaned in to press his face into Jean's neck, and pull his arm tightly around him. Jean let him sink into him, his arms wrapped around his neck. He took in his musty sweaty smell and kissed his hair. They just kind of sat entwined like that for a while and it felt perfect.

Eventually Marco stirred and Jean let go, allowing his arms to fall: one on the table in front of Marco as it had been before and one to the small of his back. Still beaming and taking in one another.

“Does this mean I can have your number?” Jean asked.

After a while they walked hand in hand back to Jean's car. They both couldn't stop smiling and blushing and laughing as they made fun of each other and tried to understand the new feeling that raced within the both of them.

They were quiet in the car. Jean gave Marco his phone and let him pick the tunes, singing along like 10 year olds. Jean drove and watched Marco and Marco watched the world again. Jean wondered if after the events of today it looked any different to how it had before. Jean followed the instructions back to Marco's house. As they pulled up outside it was quiet, however not in an awkward way.

Jean took off his belt and leaned over to press a kiss to Marco's cheek and jaw. Then he noticed how shiny his eyes looked.

“Are you crying?”

“Almost, maybe,” But Marco didn't look sad, he looked elated.

“Are you okay?” Jean wondered.

“It’s crazy,” Marco bit his lip and it was so cute and vulnerable and sexy. “I had kind of accepted the fact that I might not ever have anyone,” Marco turned to face Jean. It was almost dark out now and the street lamps were beginning to turn on. There was something about the way Marco's lips moved in that pale light that had Jean kissing him again. Only briefly but long enough for Marco to run his hand through Jeans short hair at the top of his neck, his long fingers in timing with his lips. Jean let out a small moan, he could feel himself getting so turned on and he wouldn't let himself get that far until he was completely certain Marco wanted that too.

As they parted Jean moved his fingers to the wisps of hair that hung on Marco's forehead, pushing them back so he could take in his face completely.

“For as long as you want it, I am yours,”

The grin on Marco's face was enough to make Jean blush like he had when they first started talking and he couldn't believe he'd said something so dorky. They both laughed, and Marco looked towards his house. “It's not that late, do you want to come in?”

Like most teenagers you would think that what would cross Jean's mind would be the idea of being alone in Marco's bed room. But when Jean nodded the thought of Marco moaning his name or getting hot under the sheets wasn't his motivation. All Jean wanted was to be close to him, to continue to spend every spare moment with him until life would interfere for a while. To hold him and make him laugh and help burden his problems and watch him glow, all the while his mark reminding him that they were fated but that it wasn't forced. All he wanted, for perhaps the rest of his life was to look at him as though the stars shined in his eyes, the windows to his kind soul. And only then would Jean's soul feel complete.

**Author's Note:**

> BIG thanks to claywinchester for helping me decide what flavour ice cream the pair like! Jean likes the kind of vanilla with flecks because for some reason it reminds him of freckles and he loves freckles! And Marco likes mint because he's the fresh prince of barely there!  
> I also took a lot of inspiration from the Taylor Swift songs Enchanted and Fearless, along with Bastille I kept listening to while writing this! :)
> 
> Everyone has been so kind! Please come and find me on tumblr, so I can ship Jean/Marco with you lovely people!! yourxkhaleesi.tumblr.com


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